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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28868421">Platonic Form Corrupted</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DDDragoni/pseuds/DDDragoni'>DDDragoni</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Blaseball (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Unlimited Tacos (Blaseball Team)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:22:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28868421</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DDDragoni/pseuds/DDDragoni</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In twenty different clubhouses across the immaterial plane, twenty different ILB officials switch on twenty different microphones. Twenty different speakers give off twenty different feedback whines as their systems come online, and nineteen of them quiet down in a second, are forgotten in a minute. But in one clubhouse, one shrill sound reverberates through the air, resonating with something unseen, and the Los Angeles Tacos flinch back as the piercing shriek of feedback gets louder and louder.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Platonic Form Corrupted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In twenty different clubhouses across the immaterial plane, twenty different ILB officials switch on twenty different microphones. Twenty different speakers give off twenty different feedback whines as their systems come online, and nineteen of them quiet down in a second, are forgotten in a minute. But in one clubhouse, one shrill sound reverberates through the air, resonating with something unseen, and the Los Angeles Tacos flinch back as the piercing shriek of feedback gets louder and louder.</p><p>“No, no, no, no, no, no.”</p><p>Wyatt Mason looks over and sees Lee Davenport clutching the sides of his head, trembling, his eyes wide and unfocused as he struggles to stay on his feet. They know Lee’s been having strange headaches since that weird game against the Shoe Thieves a few weeks back, but this is much more intense than anything they’ve seen previously. Davenport takes a step back, except he doesn't, and now there's two of him, and they- he- they are blurry and out of focus, like the universe itself is looking at both of him cross-eyed.</p><p>Davenport's legs give out and he collapses to his knees, his breathing gasping and erratic, and his eyes roll back as he throws his head towards the sky and screams. A harsh, guttural scream of pain and terror amplified by the unstable fabric of reality that shatters the clubhouse's windows and nearly blows Wyatt off their feet, and DavenDovenDevanportpartport is are is oscillating like he’s they’re he’s being looked at in a shattering funhouse mirror, as the whine of the feedback increases in intensity, and Leeeeee’s scream shifts to match it as the room begins to shift and shudder along with the convulsions of his bodies.</p><p>The Tacos are thrown about the clubhouse. Taiga crashes into Wanda, knocking them both to the floor, while the large bookshelf on the east wall collapses toward the downed Simmons and Polk before Sasquatch catches it. Preston, Emmet, and Comfort are able to steer themselves onto the sofa, but Wheeler, Leaf, Beyonce, and Breadwinner are tossed to the sides of the room.</p><p>Wyatt finds themself up on the makeshift stage the ILB had set up for the election, their head pounding. They reach out and grab the nearest thing to them, the microphone stand, and rise, trembling, to their feet. As the fabric of reality shudders and rocks the room, the microphone itself is shaken loose from the collapsing stand, and Wyatt catches it absentmindedly, forgetting what he’s holding almost instantly as he sees Lee, his best friend(s,) on the ground in agony. </p><p>“Lee!” Wyatt stumbles forward off the stage, the microphone cord trailing behind him, staggering side to side as the floor, the city, the entire universe is rocked and torn around them.</p><p>“Wyatt, wait!” Breadwinner tries to stand, but a sudden shift knocks her legs out from under her. “It’s not safe, we don’t know-”</p><p>But before she can finish, Wyatt reaches Daeoveaenpoaort and throws their arms around him(s.) “Lee! Please, what’s going on, what can I... we... I we I we we I we we we weeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”</p><p>As they grab onto Lee, Wyatt feels the vibrations inside him, thrumming with the pulse of the feedback, and they feel their own body- their own <i>soul</i> begin to resonate with them as well. And once his own frequency matches up with Lee’s, Wyatt feels his presence, bursting at the seams- there’s so much Lee in Lee that it’s breaking loose, flowing out of him and into Wyatt Mason- into Lee Devanport.</p><p>Leeatt Devanporson stumbles backwards, letting go of Davenport. They feel their mind eroding, crumbling, with every passing second there’s less and less of Wyatt and more and more of Lee. “No, no, no... this, this is wrong, this is all wrong... I’m not, this isn’t... This isn’t me, I’m, I’m...” They clutch their arms to their chest in a panic, bringing the microphone close to their mouth without realizing it. <i>“I AM WYATT MASON!”</i> They shout, and everything<br/>
b<br/>
r<br/>
e<br/>
a<br/>
k<br/>
s</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Wyatt Mason slowly comes to consciousness in the rubble that used to be the Unlimited Tacos clubhouse. They run their forehead as they sit up, and open their eyes only to be greeted by the stunning vista of the infinite Los Angeli. The sky ripples and surges, cracking with pink lightning and waves of a color they can’t even describe. The buildings around them spread impossibly wide, fractalling inward and outward without end, and Wyatt can only look for a few moments before their head starts pounding and they have to look away. Glancing across the ruined building, they see a pile of rubble shift as Wyatt Mason pushes a chunk of ruined ceiling off of herself and Wyatt Mason, both of them-</p><p><i>Wait, hold on,</i> Wyatt thinks to themself. <i>That’s not Wyatt Mason, I’m Wyatt Mason, that’s...</i> But as much as they wrack their brain, they can’t put a name to either of the faces in front of him other than their own.</p><p>“Wyatt! Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine, I just-” A dozen voices answer in perfect unison before stopping, as Wyatt Mason rushes over to where Wyatt Mason lies unconscious amidst the rubble.</p><p>“He’s unconscious,” Wyatt says, kneeling down from his considerable height to check Wyatt’s pulse. “But alive. Wyatt, go call an ambulance. Wyatt, take Wyatt and go get some ice. Wyatt, come here and keep his head elevated. Wyatt-” He pauses, all three of his eyes blinking as he realizes what he’s saying. “What on Earth is happening here?”</p><p>Of the fourteen Wyatt Masons gathered in the rubble, twelve descend into shouting and confusion, one lies unconscious on the ground, and one watches the way the twelve move, the way they talk, the way they carry themselves. <i>That’s not right, he gets loud when he’s scared, not quiet- that’s what I do when I’m scared. She’s holding the phone wrong, she’s not left handed- but I am. Their accent’s gone, she doesn’t know what to do with her vines, and there’s no way he’d go this long without swearing.</i> The longer Wyatt watches, the less they see their teammates, their friends, and the more they see themself. They look down at the microphone, still clutched tight in their hand, and they know this is all their fault.</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>And then the tears start to flow.</i>
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